


sorry to my unknown lover

by orphan_account



Category: Venom (Movie 2018)
Genre: Fluff, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Pre-Relationship, hot chocolate in the dead ass of night, surprise theres FEELINGS
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-19
Updated: 2018-11-19
Packaged: 2019-08-26 04:34:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,471
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16674577
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Eddie makes hot chocolate.(Post-Venom first ending.)





	sorry to my unknown lover

**Author's Note:**

> whats up guys im gay and ive eaten all 1k+ fics in the venom tag so i decided its about time i add to the collection. thank you all so much for the good food
> 
> this one goes out to leo for wholeheartedly supporting my rabid lifestyle and also to the one symbrock artist at anyc who yelled with me about how stupid and good this movie was

The first thing Eddie registers is the feeling of being completely and totally alone.

It weighs on him even more deeply after he’s dried off and given his statement and practically dragged to Anne and Dan’s place for the night under both of their repeated insistences. Eddie curls up on a couch that came from another life and tugs the blanket over himself and lies awake in the early-morning gloom, listening to the steady hum of the refrigerator from the kitchen and the muted roar of the cars outside and wishing the inside of his brain wasn’t so terribly empty. He’s not sure when he last slept, but he doesn’t trust his body to stop producing adrenaline anytime soon so instead he stares at the too-familiar ceiling and lets his brain run in circles.

The eternal question of the night, it seems, is whether Carlton Drake has really met his end in the fiery explosion that took out Venom. Eddie can’t help but relive the not-so-distant memory of the symbiote flowing out through his veins as he fell, spreading themself across the sky in an inky-black parachute connected to him by his fingertips (and ignoring the scream that ripped unbidden from his throat, _stupid parasite, why’d you have to go and sacrifice yourself for the sake of a useless human too dumb to keep others out of his own fucking messes—_

 **—** **no**

Eddie’s heart leaps in his ribcage, and for one terrifying second he fears—hopes—

“...Venom?”

 **not useless, you idiot,** murmurs Venom, more softly than Eddie has ever heard them speak in the handful of days he’s known them.

 _“I’m_ the idiot, huh,” says Eddie, or maybe he thinks it, honestly, the boundaries are a bit blurred these days. _You could have just let me fall, you know, humans have these things called hospitals, you might remember them from the time you accidentally put me into one._ Curled arms around his chest, black goop sluicing through his fingers and Venom is gone, lostcoldhurt _alone_ and there’s Eddie at the fringes of his own vision, and with a shock Eddie realises that the symbiote is showing him its— _their_ —memories. A little less lost, maybe, still cold and injured, but at least they’re not _alone_ anymore, and the heady rush of raw emotion leaves Eddie reeling from the strength of Venom’s own feelings.

Cold, at least, Eddie knows how to fix. He staggers into a vaguely upright position from the couch, ignoring how Mr. Belvedere eyes him suspiciously from across the living room, and pads into the kitchen on socked feet. Anne was never too fond of cocoa mix, citing that “we actually own a whole Keurig, Eddie, it’s a waste not to use it” so he isn’t surprised to find his hidden stash of Swiss Miss packets exactly where he left it behind a stack of Tupperware on the top of the fridge (which, honestly, does not hurt as much as he expected it to. His relationship with Anne has managed to retain only the ache of familiarity, as though those memories belong to another person entirely.)

Venom prods gently at his ribcage, no doubt looking for something to fix despite the fact that their presence is fainter than Eddie’s ever felt it, and Eddie does his level best to wrench himself away from a potentially injurious train of thought by focusing on the rote process of making a hot drink (microwave two-thirds of a cup of milk, root around in the Tupperware pile for the marshmallows, rush to grab the ceramic cup out of the microwave before it beeps and wakes someone up.) He tears open a packet with his teeth and stirs it in with the wrong end of a spoon, watching to make sure the chocolate dissolves evenly before pouring in more milk and adding a handful of large white marshmallows. Venom manifests somewhere around the third marshmallow, watching the process with an almost eerily focused curiosity; impulsively, Eddie breaks off a piece of marshmallow with his fingers and offers it up to the inky black blob peering out from his shoulder.

Venom eyes the candy with a sort of wary suspicion before manifesting a singular row of teeth to consume it. The resulting rush of heady pleasure nearly knocks Eddie off his feet, and he is startled into a laugh.

“Oh, man. You’re gonna love hot chocolate.”

They wrap their hands around the still-warm cup and carefully transport it over to the couch, where Eddie places it on the coffee table and crouches down for the abandoned blanket. A set of glowing yellow eyes meets his own; Venom follows Eddie’s movements and stretches downwards to blink at the cat lodged between the couch and the floor before said cat wriggles out of their combined reach to stalk primly towards the loveseat and judge his life decisions from there instead.

Some things don’t change, thinks Eddie with a quiet sigh. Retrieving the blanket, he tugs it around their shoulders and settles deeper into the couch, picking up the mug and absently taking a sip.

The effect is instantaneous. Venom practically _melts_ back into Eddie while reveling in the combination of pleasant heat and sugar-sweetness, the ever-persistent ache of desperate hunger abating with every sip they take. Eddie is fairly sure that this is not how human biology works at all, because they can’t survive off sugar alone but Venom is vibrating with warmth and happiness and a radiantly bright emotion that Eddie is stubbornly and purposefully refusing to label at this current moment in time (but if anyone asked, if he absolutely had to, he just maybe-might-possibly call it something like _love_ and that scares him far less than it should.)

 **eddie , rest,** murmurs Venom, and their tone is raspy with something close to exhaustion but their voice in his head is much stronger than it was before and Eddie doesn’t even bother to hide the rush of relief he feels at that. The ceramic cup in their hands is empty, the comforting weight of the warm drink settling low in Eddie’s stomach, and Venom carefully maneuvers it out of his hands with a small black tendril before nudging him gently into a horizontal position.

To his credit, Eddie does actually try to rest, but his attempts to slip into sleep are consistently undermined by his stubborn determination to shove down the miserable memory of watching Venom slip through his fingers. Judging by the sharply uncomfortable twist directly underneath his sternum, he’s failed miserably, but before he can utter so much as an apology Venom twines a handful of solid black tendrils around both of his arms, projecting comfortsecurityhappiness _love_ all the way down to their fingertips (and now it’s Eddie’s turn to melt, curling his fingers into Venom’s half-formed claws and projecting relief and the same too-bright emotion back at his otherworldly other half, _thank you for saving me please never do that again_ and Venom makes a sound that might pass for a laugh in another life before threading more tendrils up Eddie’s spine and past his ribcage to nestle themself directly around his fragile heart.)

 

* * *

 

This is how Anne finds them in the morning, Eddie and Venom all tangled up into one and Mr. Belvedere curled up at Eddie’s feet taking full advantage of the fact that his body seems to be coping with symbiosis by running warm. She knows Venom is watching her, witnesses them manifest a head and eyes and several teeth as she goes to make her morning coffee; refusing to be rattled, she brews a second mug and tiptoes into the living room to place it beside them before leaning down to brush the hair out of Eddie’s face.

Venom is fully hovering now, not _threatening_ per se but not exactly un-threatening either, and Anne barely even realises she’s made a decision until her right hand is halfway to one of Venom’s tendrils and she’s mentally wrapping her best memories of Eddie into a tangled and misshapen package tied with strings of first love and nostalgic happiness and a fierce protective streak and willing Venom to _understand._

_Promise me you’ll take care of him._

Venom nods, once, and the black tendril retreats. Satisfied, Anne takes a sip of her coffee and stands up from the couch.

 

* * *

 

(Later, she will end up calling out of work for what is possibly the first time in her entire career and sneak sips of the instant hot chocolate Eddie made for Dan while listening to a story told in halting sentences and half-arguments interspersed with her partner’s insatiable medical curiosity and commentary. For now, though, it’s enough to press a gentle kiss to Eddie’s temple and watch as the morning sun casts its light into a house that doesn’t seem quite as lonely anymore.)

**Author's Note:**

> yes this is pre-ot4 for anyone concerned. not super feeling a sequel bc i have a lot on my plate but i hope you guys liked this......feel free to talk venom with me on [twitter](http://twitter.com/fractionhawkeye)


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